The Emperor's Return: A Blessing and A Curse
by paladinofthelantern
Summary: (AU)SPOILERS Martin Septim returns to Tamriel to rule over once more, but a new threat arises that both he and his allies must face. Will good prevail, or will evil claim victory?


**Disclaimer: All "The Elder Scrolls" content, characters, etc. belong to Bethesda Softworks. No copyright infringement is intended. If the copyright holder wishes for this fanfiction to be removed I will do so immediately.**

**Note: "The Emperor's Return" takes place after the events of "TES IV:Oblivion" but excludes any information contained in the novels The Infernal City and Lord of Souls or the game "TES V:Skyrim" except for where I see fit.**

**Special thanks to Yttrium, the2crow, Fjord,DarthRavanger, Hellmouth, Hoon Ding, Haute Quete, and others on the Elder Scrolls Forums for helping me out.**

**CONTAINS SPOILERS**

One by one the Nine Divines entered the room, their feet making soft thuds against the crystalline floor which reflected the golden light spilling through the stained glass windows. Then seven of the Divines went to take a place at the sapphire chairs on each side of a large diamond table while Akatosh and Mara lowered themselves into two seats made of ruby and emerald at the end. All faces were turned toward Akatosh in expressions of rapt attention. It was not too often that he called a meeting on his planet in the Aurbis, called Akatosh, or as he preferred to refer to it, Horutiem.

"As all of you very well know, Tamriel no longer has an Emperor. This leaves us with two options that I have been struggling with, which has led me to request Arkay to postpone Martin's entrance into the afterlife."

"What are they?" asked Julianos, raising an eyebrow.

"Either we send Martin Septim back to Nirn continue that most esteemed bloodline or we let another man stake his claim as Emperor."

The Divines immediately broke into conversation. Akatosh held up a hand, causing silence to fall over the table.

"One at at time, please."

"People are born and they die. That is the way things have always been. Why should we interfere with the natural order of things?"

"I agree with Araky. Martin should not be sent back."

"Aye, Dibella, but to let the Septim bloodline die would indeed be a grievous shame."

"Perhaps Julianos is right. The legacy of the Septims should continue."

"Ah, but giving a new man a chance at reigning the Empire could bring about many beneficial changes for the Empire, my dear Stendarr. He might have new ideas that the Septims never thought of. Who knows what he could accomplish?"

"Kynareth, do not rule out the possibility that Martin could also bring about great changes. He may have had plans for the Empire that did not have a chance to be carried out due to his death."

"What if a new Emperor's plans would help the Empire more, Mara?"

"What if they would not, Zenithar?"

Thus the debate continued, each god or godess bringing up differing points on why Martin should or should not be returned. They viewed the situation from different angles, trying to find the flaws and strengths of each one. The deliberation continued for quite some time until at last they decided that majority would rule. Akatosh asked for the gods that thought Martin should be returned to Nirn to raise their hand. Akatosh, Mara, Julianos, Stendarr, and Talos did so while the others did not. It was decided: the Septim bloodline would continue. There were still some things to work out, though.

"What if the Elder Council does not believe that he is who he says he is?" contemplated Talos. "Surely they will think they are seeing things when they lay eyes on Martin."

"A new Amulet of Kings will be made to prove that he is indeed of the Septim bloodline, as well as to reactivate White-Gold Tower," Akatosh declared. "Also, a horn will be crafted so that it can be blown every time a new Emperor or Empress is coronated, reminding everyone that we did not let the Septim bloodline die. Kynareth and Zenithar will craft the second Amulet of Kings along with the horn in Zenithar's forge while Mara and I craft the body here on Horutiem. The rest of you will welcome Martin and explain our decision to him. Now, I will speak on the subject of the Amulet of Kings. Long ago, before Alessia rebelled, an Ayleid king named Rimian desired to attain a soul gem of immense power. Now, there were many substances that the Ayleids used to make these gems, but there was one in particuar, midius, that they prized very dearly. However, it had been discovered that if too large of an amount, such as that needed to make Rimian's soul gem,was taken from the site of its growth the substance would crumble within a couple of months. The Ayleids carefully removed a portion of the substance and began to cautiously fashion it into a diamond and apply the magic that would allow it to become a soul gem, while the formeost in rank tried to come up with a solution to stop it from crumbling. By the time the diamond was finished the Ayleids had come up with a grim answer to their problem.

They would pray to Mehrunes Dagon and ask him for assistance. Men, women, and children were ripped from the loving arms of their families and slaughtered on a bloody altar, their steaming entrails laid at the feet of his shrine in a macabre pile. For days they pleaded for him to help, each day sacrificing more and more. The priests were beginning to worry that all their efforts were for naught when Dagon's voice boomed from the shrine that their sacrifices had impressed him and he would assist them. He instructed one of priests, named Coawae, to take a vial, climb up a ladder to a platform, and hold the object under the shrine's mouth. The man did so, nearly jumping in surprise when some sort of liequid slowly filled the vial. Dagon then stated that this substance was his blood, and that if it was poured over the diamond the blood would hold it together.

The other priests gave Coawae the honor of doing the task, since Mehrunes Dagon had selected him to hold the vial. Coawae did as instructed and the gathered crowd murmured in surprise when the clear substance of the diamond turned orange. From then on it was called the Talon of Dagon. A celebration was given afterwards, with Coawae as an honored guest. When it was over the priest made his way to his room, quite content with the day's events. He was very prideful and loved attention, along with any possessions he could get. One of his most prized had been obtained in a less than noble manner and was hidden in a dresser. That night he opened the dresser drawers and opened a false bottom, taking out a wooden box and setting it on his bed. He unlatched the clasp that held the lid and gazed lovingly at his treasure. There, nestled among blue silk, was a large portion of midius. He ran his fingers over it, delighting in the coolness of its surface. Soenthralled was Coawae by the midius he did not notice that someone was watching him until he heard a startled gasp.

The priest whipped his head around and met the eyes of a young Ayleid maiden, whom he recognized as a Telindil's, a highly revered guard captain, daughter. Coawae panicked. Surely she would tell her father, who had always been suspcious of the priest. He knew that the captain, if it came to his attention that Coawae possessed a portion of the midius, would check the lists of all those who had permission to take the material and find that Coawae's name was not on it. Before he could stop her she dashed down the hall. Coawae knew that pursuing and then killing her would be useless, since she was well known among the Ayleids and her death would certainly be noticed. He quickly took the midius, stuffed it in a sack, and ran in the opposite direction. He knew very well the young maiden would tell of his crime, which would no doubt result in guards being sent after him. Obviously, the palace was no longer safe for him, but perhaps the woods were. There, he would hide until he could think further on this matter. Fortunately for him, he was able to sneak through the corridors quietly enough, running swiftly towards the woods when he reached the exit. Deep into its embrace he ran, letting it swallow him as he his heart pounded against his chest like a great warhammer. A chill shot through his form when the cries of guards shattered the quiet of the night, the neighs of their mounts shrill screams that nearly deafened his ears.

Suddenly, he stumbled and fell as his foot plunged into a small hole, causing the bones of his ankle to snap. Agony shot through his form as he forced himself up off of the ground and continued to flee. Finally, he could endure the pain no longer and collapsed beside a tree, gasping for air as he let his back rest against its rough wooden surface. Hopefully, he had gone far enough into the woods that his pursuers would give up the search after a few hours. Far off in the distance he heard the sound of voices and the faint flicker of torchlight as the guards spread out in an attempt to find him. Minutes passed as he sat there, every nerve on edge as he strained his eyes and ears for any sign of the guards. Then one of them shouted something and the light of the torches drew nearer. Coawae tried to stand, but the agony from before returned full force. He could go no further; he would be caught. Still,though, he was not going to let his prize be taken from him. Using the last of his magic he tore a hole in the tree, thrusting the midius inside before sealing it back up. He closed his eyes and sighed, knowing that his doom apporached.

They flew open as he was jerked upwards by his collar and found himself staring into the cold, dark eyes of Telindil. He demanded that Coawae tell him where the midius was, but the priest spat out that he would die before he gave up that information. Telindil threw him down to the ground and slammed a foot into in gut with his boot, asking once more what he did with the precious substance. Coawae spat at him. This angered Telindil greatly, and pulled Coawae up off of the ground once more and hit him in the side of the head with his fist. Still, Coawae refused. No matter how many times Telindil shouted for an answer, he received none Frustrated, he bound Coawae's hands with rope and tied it behind his horse's saddle. The mer then mounted his horse, the group heading back towards the palace. Even when brought before Rimian, though, Coawae did not relent. Thus, the king ordered the wayward priest to be tortured in the most painful manner his jailers could think of in hopes that it would force him to confess. That too proved fuitle. So the Rimian ordered Coawae to be beheaded and had it placed on a spear before his throne, as a warning to all who would defy him.

Talos will fetch the midius that Coawae hid so long ago and I will provide some of my blood to bind the it together. I will also provide two of my scales to be forged into gold for the clasp and the horn. Finally, I need each of you to provide a gem to represent us so that it can be placed within the clasp. Now let us go. Not even a second should be wasted."

* * *

Martin blinked. A large emerald gate surrounded him. Within its boundaries were flowers the hues of a painter's palette. Large trees towered above him, their lengthy boughs stretching to a large pool in the middle. Near it was a massive hourglass carved out of pure ruby with ivy wrapped intricately around it. Martin picked himself off of the ground and tried to think of where exactly he was. Try as he might he could not find a name. How did he come to be here anyway? As if in reply a wave of memories hit him, each scene vivid and detailed in his mind. He recalled his life before he found out he was the son of Uriel Septim VII. He remembered helping his adopted father tend the farm and sheep and assisting his adopted mother around the house. Years later he took an interest in daedra worship, but turned away from it after a horrific experience and joined the priesthood. He thought of the attack on Kvatch and the pain, terror, and anger he felt at having his home destroyed. Then a brave warrior had come and ventured into Oblivion itself to shut the accursed gate. When the warrior was revealed to be a Nord woman he recalled his heart fluttering faintly, and had felt the shock of his life when she told him who his biological father was.

The moment she had shown him the Mysterium Xarxes and how he felt a bolt of fear for Bodil rush through him at that moment, but also admiration at her risking herself in order to retrieve it came to mind. When the Great Gate had opened and Bodil went through, he had thought he might never see her again. All throughout the battle he kept thinking of her being crushed by the siege engine or slaughtered by a vicious daedra. What relief he had felt when she came back out of the Gate unharmed! Yet, there had also been sorrow, for she had come out of Oblivion only to go into Mankar Camoran's wretched Paradise. It had bothered him immensely to just sit there and wait, and have his imagination flood him with horrific scenarios of her death once more.

Martin felt sorrow rise in his heart when he thought of how Mehrunes Dagon had appeared in the Imperial City and how he had had to make an immense sacrifice. He recalled that throughout that journey he had the felt that flutter grow steadier and steadier, but he had refused to recognize it. After all, he had never felt such emotions before. How could he be sure it was what he suspected? As a paldadin of Akatosh she was loyal to the gods, and thus to the Empire and him. It was this loyalty and dedication, this desire to better the lives of others, her realized, that had caused those feelings within him. It was not admiration, as he had first thought, but love. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her in his arms, to run his hands through her long, golden hair. He desired her so badly it ached. Ah, but how could he ever get to her again?

"Ah, Martin Septim, I see you have found Mara's garden."

Martin quickly turned around at the noise to see Dibella, Julianos, Arkay, and Stendarr.

"Wh...where am I?" the Imperial stuttered as the gods approached him.

"Horutiem, the home of Akatosh," Stendarr explained, taking in the image of the startled man before him.

"Why am I here?"

"Your questions will be answered soon enough, so do not be worried. However, before they are you may want to partake of this," Stendarr suggested, holding out a bottle of a deep purple liquid.

"What is that for, if I may ask?"

"Oh dear, you have not realized your current state, have you? You might want to have a look at yourself," Stendarr stated, walking over to a large pool of water. Martin did as he was asked and nearly screamed. Instead of seeing his normal reflection he saw giant dragon with dark blue scales staring back at him. He backed up a few paces, shaking his head.

"W...what on Tamriel...," he sputtered.

Arkay put a hand on one of Martin's legs, and Martin realized how small everything suddenly looked. "Calm down, Emperor and let me explain. When a mortal dies their soul takes on the shape it had in life. An Imperial's soul, for example, would look exactly like the body. However, you are a special case since you are Dragonborn. A Dragonborn, as you may or may not know, has the soul of a dragon and the body of a mortal. When you died your soul merely took on its natural state. Do you understand?"

"I...I think so."

"Good," Arkay replied, taking the bottle from Stendarr and holding it up to Martin. "Now bend down and I will give you this potion. It will allow you to take on a human shape."

Martin did so and Arkay poured the mixture into his mouth. Immediately Martin felt himself shrinking and when he looked at himself in the pool once more, found a far more familiar face reflected back at him. Arkay quickly covered the man with his outer robe, as he doubted Martin would want to walk around nude.

"Thank you," Martin said.

"You are most welcome. Now if you come with us we will explain why you are here."

* * *

Kuror moved stealthily through the Great Forest, looking for a deer to shoot. He was hungry and needed food badly. He could only steal so much from Chorrol before getting caught, and the inhabitants of city were probably on the lookout for him. A grin crept onto his face when a buck stepped timidly into his line of fire. He would have a full stomach tonight. Kuror was about to release his arrow when the sound of footsteps startled the deer, causing it to bound off into the distance. The Bosmer scowled, but he was comforted in the fact that perhaps the traveler had something of worth on him that he could steal and moved behind a tree.

Kuror watched as a man wearing a blue cloak neared a large oak tree that looked liked it had been on Tamriel for ages, raised his hands, and fired two spears of ice at its center. The bark shattered into pieces and Kuror had to duck behind his own tree to make sure that he kept his eyes. Once the dust settled he peered back out and witnessed the man take out an object that Kuror had never seen before and turn back in the direction he had come from. Kuror stealthily crept upon his target, hoping he would be successful. After a few moments of following the stranger he leaped out of the brush, hoping to tackle his target and wrest the gem from his hands. He did not expect a boot to plow into his stomach, causing him to hit the ground with a large thud. Kuror barely had time to blink before a sword was pointed at his throat.

"Why did you try to rob me?"

"I...I..."

"Tell me and I will let you go."

"Because...because I need the money, I suppose. I am not guaranteed to hit a deer every time I go hunting," he answered, feeling quite bewildered by the fact that he was having a conversation with a previously intended victim. His heart pounded against his chest from feeling the cold steel of the sword touching his skin. The man stared at Kuror for a few minutes before sheathing his sword.

"There is no honor in stealing."

"I have to. Otherwise I would starve. I am not exactly the richest mer, you know," Kuror replied as he got up.

The man grabbed a pouch of gold from his belt and handed it to Kuror. "However, there is honor in giving. Give and you shall be rewarded with something greater than gold." Kuror looked at the item he held, bouncing the pouch up and down in his hand. This was certainly turning out to be one weird afternoon. Why would someone give money to someone who tried to rob them? He shook his head and turned around to thank the man. But he was gone.

He stared at the gold once more, contemplating the stranger's act.

On the planet of Zenithar, or, as the merchant god liked to call it, Forram, the work on the Amulet of King's began. Kynareth set the midius on the table while Zenithar laid out the tools he would need to carve the substance into a diamond shape. He selected one and set to work. Meanwhile, Kynareth began to prepare the forge for crafting the clasp. Zenithar furrowed his brow, making sure that every inch of the material would take the form that he wanted. It was not that noticable at first, but it began to look more and more like a diamond. When he was satisfied with how it looked he asked Kynareth to hand him the glass vial of Akatosh's blood. He uncorcked it poured it with great care over the item, which absorbed the blood and turned a vibrant shade of red. Zenithar allowed himself a smile before he turned his attention to the two golden scales that Kynareth placed in front of him. He knocked on it, feeling that it was as solid, if not more so, than any metal on Nirn. Zenithar placed it into the fire, lifting his arm up and down as he endeavored to forge it into the clasp while Kynareth worked the bellows. He inserted the gems when the metal was flexible enough, making sure they were placed exactly right. He then placed the diamond within the clasp and looped the leather strip through the top so that it would fit around Martin's neck.

Zenithar then took the second scale and began crafting the horn, forging the scale into a curved shape and inserting two ruby hourglasses on each side at the right time. When he thought fit to do so he etched Aedric runes onto the horn, the letters twisting in and out of each other in a brilliant display of knotwork. A dragon was placed among them with two blazing rubies for eyes. Finally, it was polished until it it shined.

"Here's to a job well done," Zenithar commented once it was complete, wiping his brow with a cloth and smiling at Kynareth.

Meanwhile, Akatosh and Mara were putting all their effort into making Martin's new body. Akatosh took the a piece of the material from which he made bones and started to carve it into a femur. Mara took a portion of deep red material and started to form a heart. Once the bones and organs were made and the organs placed within the skeleton the two took two portions a leathery substance, cut muscles from it, and wove them together over the skeleton. Next, sheets of soft flesh were laid on top of the muscle and attached to the rest of the body. Finally, hair was added to complete the job.

"I think we did very well, wife. Do you think so?"

"Yes, dear. Now all that is left is for Martin to enter it."

* * *

When Martin stepped into his new body in Akatosh's palace two Nirn days after he was told of the gods' decision it felt like he was wearing a new suit of armor at first, but a second later he was quite comfortable in it. He flexed his fingers, finding that worked just as his old ones had. The man looked around him at the gods standing in the crystal room.

"Thank you all so much for this. I can never repay you."

"It is payment enough that Tamriel will see the return of a Septim," Akatosh said as he motioned at Zenithar and Kynareth. The merchant god placed the new Amulet of Kings around Martin's neck while Kynareth handed him the horn. "Let the second Amulet of Kings be proof of your claim to the Ruby Throne and may this horn, the Voice of Akatosh, be blown when your descendants claim it, so Tamriel will not forget what the gods have done."

"I assure you it will be done," Martin stated.

Akatosh smiled. "Now, I think it is time for you to return home, Martin Septim. Farwell," Akatosh then placed a hand on the man's shoulder.

Martin felt his surroundings grow fainter and fainter until he felt like he was made up of nothing but air and he could not recognize what was around him. A minute later Martin felt himself grow more solid and dim images began to appear before his eyes. He thought he felt something under his feet and when he looked down he saw a marbled floor. Gazing about the room he recognized it as the Council Chamber in the Imperial Palace. A jolt of fear went through him as he remembered that this was the very place he had been moments before the Ocato, the Imperial Legionnaires, his Blades, Bodil, Coleridge, and he had gone out to battle the daedra only to have Mehrunes Dagon appear. Martin shook his head to clear out the image. No need to think about that now. Such thoughts would only hinder him.

He turned around when he heard a door creak open and saw an extremely shocked Chancellor Ocato. The Altmer battlemage was as pale as the marble of the room. He stood there dumbstruck for a minute before making an attempt to speak. At first Ocato could only get a few syllables out of his mouth, but he eventually gained some of his composure.

"By the Nine, I must be dreaming! I came over here to have a quiet place to sort out my thoughts, but I never intended to think this hard! Oh, I must be more stressed than I first suspected," he told himself, leaning against the closed doors and putting a hand to his head.

"Chancellor Ocato, it really is me," Martin explained, staying where he was so as not to frighten the Chancellor any more. Ocato straightened himself with some difficulty and tentatively walked towards Martin, stopping a few feet from him. He eyed him, trying to confirm that the man standing before him was real and not a hallucination. Then his eyes landed on the golden horn and the strange runes inscribed on it.

"May I see that horn?" Martin handed it to the Chancellor. As Ocato ran his fingers over it he studied the object, feeling every detail. Never in his life had he seen such anything like this. He had read many texts but he had never come across the characters on the horn. They did not look like any writing he had ever seen before and appeared to glow with an inner light all its own. Then Ocato studied the roaring dragon on the horn and it seemed that the figure held his gaze like Akatosh himself. A chill ran down his spine and he fell down on his knees.

"Emperor, please forgive me! It just seemed impossible that you would actually be standing in front of me right now! How...how in Tamriel did you come back?"

"Come. I will sit down and tell you."

The two each pulled up a chair before Martin began to tell the Chancellor what had transpired.

The Altmer's eyes widened with each sentence Martin spoke. He shook his head back and forth slowly.

"Amazing. It's simply mind-blowing that all of that would happen. I must gather the Elder Council here at once."

* * *

Councillor Tjous growled under his breath as he heard a knock on the door of his house in the Temple District of the Imperial City. Ocato was getting more frequent in his meetings, which of course meant less sleep for the Bosmer. He forced himself out of his comfortable bed, pulled a loose robe over his sleeping clothes, and opened the door to see an Imperial guard.

"Councilor Tjous, Chancellor Ocato has summoned you to the Imperial Palace. I am to escort you there immediately."

"Not even going to give me a chance to change into more proper attire, are you?" Tjous remarked.

"I am sorry, sir, but the Chancellor said this was urgent."

"Very well." Tjous stepped out of his house and locking the door behind him. "Lead on."

The guard led him through the quiet streets and into the Imperial Palace, stopping before the Council Chambers. Tjous entered and found his fellow councilors already seated at the table. He then took a seat himself. Ocato gazed across the table and made sure everyone was there before clearing his throat.

"I know I did not give you much time to prepare but I have urgent news. What I am about to say may shock you, but please bear with me. Martin Septim has returned."

Tjous thought Ocato had called one meeting too many, but kept his mouth shut. Upsetting the Chancellor was never good. However, the person next to him could not restrain herself.

"What in sweet Tamriel are you talking about, Chancellor? Martin Septim is dead!" exclaimed Uara Emerald-Tail.

"He was dead, but due to the will of the gods he is back with us." Ocato made a gesture with his hand. Tjous had to clench the table to keep himself from falling out of his seat as he saw the person in question step out from behind a pillar wearing the Amulet of Kings.

"This is impossible. His body and the Amulet of Kings were destroyed. We must be seeing things!" Uara whimpered.

"Akatosh and the other gods made me a new body. They also made me a new Amulet to prove that I am of Septim blood, though the Dragonfires are no longer needed."

"Here is proof if you still doubt," Ocato said, holding up the Voice of Akatosh. "Look at this object and tell me if you truly think a mortal could have crafted it. This horn is indeed of divine origin. Thus, it proves that the Nine Divines returned the Emperor to us."

"I can barely believe it."

"How are we ever going to explain this to everyone else?"

"First of all, we hold a conference at the Arena tomorrow to explain Martin's return to the Imperial City. The Counts and Countesses of Cyrodil will be told of what has transpired via letters. They will, in turn, inform their own subjects. As for the other provinces, we deliver similar missives to thier rulers. However, these messages will have other letters attached for said rulers to distribute to those under them," Ocato declared. "Does everyone understand?"

All the councilors nodded.

"Then we will hold the conference and begin production of the letters tomorrow. Until then I suggest we retire."

'Thank goodness," Tjous thought to himself as he shuffled out the doors. 'I definitely need sleep now more than ever.'

* * *

Tjous watched from the northern observation area of the Arena as the citizens of the Imperial City flooded into the stands and thought of what was going through their minds. Most likely they were confused since the Elder Council had never done something quite like this. There had been tournaments and such held in the Arena before, but never a conference. He wondered how the people would react when the saw the Emperor. Tjous was glad that there were invisible walls around the Arena preventing anyone from falling to their deaths, since he was sure someone would faint. He turned his head when an Imperial guard came through the doorway and walked up to Chancellor Ocato.

"Sir, every citizen that could fit into the stands is here."

"Good," Ocato said before he dismissed the guard. He stood up and approached the railing of the balcony, causing everyone to fall silent. "Good citizens of the Imperial City, you all know of Emperor Martin's Septim's death when he bravely sacrificed himself to rid us of the horrible Mehrunes Dagon. I am sure many of your worried about what would happen with no heir to the throne. Many of us prayed to the gods for aid. Well, an answer has come. Just yesterday Martin Septim was returned to us. Some of you may think I am lying. Before you accuse me, though, see for yourself if what I say is true."

As the Altmer finished his sentence, Martin Septim strode into view. The crowd immediately broke out into conversation and some people even fell over in their seats.

"Quiet, everyone! Quiet!" The stands become silent once more. "If anyone from the other cities or provinces says that the Emperor has not returned, you can act as our witnesses and say that you saw Martin Septim with your own eyes. Now, I believe our Emperor has something to say." The Altmer then backed away, so that the crowd's attention would be focused on Martin. Tjous looked on, eager to hear what Martin would say. The Emperor held up the Voice of Akatosh and the sunlight blazed across its surface, highlighting every intricate detail. "Here is proof that the Nine Divines returned me. This horn was crafted by Kynareth and Zenithar themselves." The crowd gasped. Never before had they seen so beautiful an object.

"I know that I was only in this world a short while before, but I still intend to rule the Empire as I did then. I will try my hardest to govern Tamriel with kindness and mercy as my father, Uriel Septim VII, did before me. Everyone shall be treated fairly and justice will prevail throughout the land. I hope to bring calmness to Tamriel after the horror and destruction of the Oblivion Crisis. It caused grief to many and I wish to replace that grief with happiness and mirth. I sincerely promise I will do my best to help everyone. With the guidance of the Divines the Empire will flourish."

The crowd erupted with applause and Tjous even clapped a few times himself. Ocato moved forward once more.

"Thank you, citizens! Now go with the knowledge that when Tamriel was in a time of darkness the gods restored her to glory!" The crowd cheered once more before before filing out of the stands.

"Chancellor, may I ask you something?" Martin questioned.

The Altmer nodded. "Of course, Emperor."

"Do you know where Bodil Ice-Sword and Samuel Coleridge live?"

"Ah, the Champion of Cyrodiil and the Mage of Blazes. After your death they left for Battlehorn Castle, which is not too far from Chorrol. Why do you ask?"

"I would like to send them a letter after I have written it. I know letters announcing my return will be sent to the various counties and provinces, but I would like to tell Bodil and Coleridge sooner. They are..."

"You don't need to explain, Emperor. Should I have a messenger at the ready to deliver the letter?"

"Yes, Chancellor. Thank you."

* * *

Bodil sat in her private quarters in Battlehorn Castle, trying to focus on the book History of the Fighters Guild. The words barely registered in her mind, which kept drifting back to the events of the past two months. She had set out from Bruma with the intention of going to the Imperial City on routine business for the Fighter's Guild, of which she was the master, and she had ended up helping to destroy one of the most dangerous daedric cults in Tamriel.

'One's life is always changing', the Nord thought. However, despite the peace that had followed after the defeat of Mehrunes Dagon, she still felt empty and hollow. Martin's death had caused sorrow to enter her heart. She thought back to the day she first met him. Bodil had felt joy rush through her, for the heir to the Empire stood before her, the very person who could restore order to Tamriel. She also felt something stir inside her and found herself thinking of how handsome he looked, but tried to push thoughts aside. He was the Emperor, and she should not have such thoughts about him. However, her admiration for him grew when she saw how dedicated he was to helping everyone despite having the responsibility of not only ruling the Empire, but of finding a way to defeat the Mythic Dawn as well. Even though the Mysterium Xanrxes posed a danger to him he still studied it tirelessly, and she was relieved when the man was not corrupted by its evil. The day that it came to collect the sigil stone she was proud to enter into Oblivion for him, ready to face whatever horrors contained within that wretched realm.

When the gate to Mankar Camoran's Paradise opened she worried that she would not come back and found that her fears were grounded in something more than concern for the Empire. The thought of never seeing Martin again caused her heart ache at the notion of not seeing him again and old feelings began to resurface. But she denied them. He was her Emperor, nothing more. He deserved loyalty, not the foolish whimsies of a child. She plunged into the realm, determined to slay Mankar Camoran and take back the Amulet of Kings. When it was time for Martin's coronation Bodil recalled how relieved she was that Martin was finally able to take the throne. Then the daedra had overrun the Imperial City and she had fought with all her strength to drive them back. Panic rushed through her as Mehrunes Dagon himself appeared, for she knew the lighting the Dragonfires would be futile now. Bodil had watched as Martin broke the Amulet of Kings, turned into the avatar of Akatosh, and battled the monstrosity until it fell.

With Mehrunes Dagon her heart collapsed also, for she knew that Martin was gone forever. The dam that she had been building up to block her growing feelings for him had burst open and the Nord denied them no longer. She loved him. He was brave, strong, loyal, and honorable. The heavy weight of the crown had been thrust upon him but he still accepeted it, putting the good of the people above his own wants and desires. She could not ask for a more perfect man. And now he was gone. It was a tragedy. Now the Empire would certainly collapse and fall into a state of turmoil until another man chose to reclaim it, but who knows when that would happen? Bodil sighed and closed her book, placing it on the table next to the chair she was sitting in. She felt that the emptiness in her heart would never fade. Her pondering was interrupted by a knock on the wooden door.

"Enter," she said, straightening her posture and smoothing her blue dress. A limber man with short brown hair, Coleridge, entered, carrying an official-looking letter.

"This just arrived from the Imperial City." Bodil took the letter from her friend and opened it. She began to read the letter, then froze. Coleridge moved closer to her.

"Bodil, are you alright? What does it say?"

"It is from Martin. It says that Akatosh and the other gods returned him."

"It can't be true." Coleridge gazed at the letter over Bodil's shoulder.

"Yet it is. Look, here are the last words he said to me." The woman pointed to a particular section of the missive. " 'Goodbye. You've been a good friend.' "

"Then it is from him."

"He is summoning us to the Imperial Palace. Martin is inviting us to stay as his guests at the Imperial Palace for a couple of weeks as his reward to us for helping end the Oblivion Crisis." A moment later a grin appeared on Bodil's face. When he tried to get a closer view she folded it up. "I am sorry, but this section of the letter is addressed specifically to me. I hope you are not offended."

"No, not at all. We will set out tomorrow morning if that is alright with you."

Bodil nodded.

"Then I bid you a good night. Sleep well."

"You too," Bodil said.

* * *

Malevolens Mucro held the reins of Bodil's armored white stallion, Aage, so that the Nord could mount. Glancing over to her right she saw Bodil's friend climb aboard his own horse with assistance from her fellow maid, Rona Benanius. Aage stamped a hoof on the ground, causing Bodil to pat his neck.

"Well, I suppose we had better be off then. Thank you, Malevolens."

"You are most welcome, Mistress Ice-Sword."

At the nudge of Bodil's feet Aage walked forward, Coleridge following close behind. One of the Knights of the True Horn opened the gate, allowing the two to exit the castle grounds. As soon as the gate was shut Malevolens casually walked towards Battlehorn Castle, only slipping around the back when no one was looking. Then the Imperial used a stack of crates to climb up over the back wall.

Malevolens peered through the trees to see how far Bodil and Coleridge were ahead of her. Fortunately, they weren't too far. The woman then headed east through the forest on the side of the Black Road, grinning to herself at the thought that the Knights of the True Horn and the other inhabitants of Battlehorn Castle would never think that sweet, innocent Malevolens would be planning to harm Mistress Ice-Sword. Malevolens smelled the lovely scents of the flowers that grew around her and listened to the birds flitting about in the trees.

"Yes," she said to herself. "This is defintely a lovely day for revenge."

Along the way Bodil and Coleridge were joined by four women and two men, but Malevolens paid them little heed. It was Bodil she was after and if they got in her way she would just have to deal with them. Nothing was going to stop her. They fortunately turned onto the Orange Road after bidding goodbye to Bodil and Coleridge, saving them from Malevolens' malicious intentions.

Malevolens continued to follow her prey, excitement building in her as she tread each length of ground. The sun had dimmed considerably when she finally decided to launch the attack she had waited so long for. Malevolens held up her hands and cast a bolt of frost onto the cobblestone path, causing the two horses to rear up. The Nord gazed around her, her eyes searching fervently for the attacker.

"Who is there? Show yourself!"

Malevolens stepped through the brush and in front of Bodil. "Here I am," she cooed.

"Malevolens? What are you doing here?" Coleridge asked, bewilderment crossing his features. "I thought you were back at Battlehorn Castle."

"So do the other Knights of the True Horn. However, what you think matters little, Coleridge."

"What do you want, Malevolens?" Bodil's eyes narrowed beneath her helmet.

"One simple thing: revenge. Before I was a servant at your castle I had a lover. His name was Arbor. Many wonderful times he and I had together in the town of Chorrol. Every day he and I grew closer and closer. We even thought we would be married soon. Then one day that all that changed. Arbor told me he met with a man who told him how he could acheive great power if only he would "read the words of the Master. My love was unfortunately lured by his words. Do you know who that man was?" she inqueried crisply.

Bodil continued to glare at her.

"He was a Mythic Dawn agent. Arbor told me of how he afterward sought out the four Mythic Dawn Commentaries, of his joining of the Mythic Dawn, and how he would amass a large fortune after Mehrunes Dagon invaded Tamriel. I tried to convince him to leave, but he would not listen. It seems his love of power and money was stronger than his love for me, but Arbor gave me a magic ring that remained green so long as he was alive to comfort me when he left. I wept for weeks after he was gone, although I did not try to follow him. My love was set in his ways and there was nothing I could do. One day, to my horror, the emerald color of the ring dimmed, and I knew that he was gone. However, Arbor had told of me of how the slain went to Mankar Camoran's Paradise and I did not completely give in to my grief. When I heard how you destroyed it, despair overtook me completely.

"It was then that I vowed to get revenge for Arbor's death. So I found out your location at Battlehorn Castle and offered my services as a servant in hopes that I would be able to get revenge on you. You then proceeded to hire me without even giving thought that I might be deceiving you. Then I snuck into your room last night and found the letter the Emperor sent you and Coleridge. I was suprised and delighted when I read the Emperor was in love with you, since I knew you were in love with him from reading your diary sometime before. The opportunity for retaliation had finally come to me."

Bodil dismounted and approached Malevolens. "You are coming with me to-," she started to say, but Malevolens shot forth a bolt of deep red at Bodil. The Nord fell to her hands and knees as her health was rapidly sapped out of her. Pain coursed through every inch of her body, so much so that she could not even scream. Coleridge leaped from his panicking steed who fled as soon as his rider was off. Malevolens was so focused on Bodil that she did not notice when Coleridge restrained her. The spell ceased and Bodil was released from her torture, although the pain from the spell still tore at her body. Malevolens growled and swung her foot as hard as she could into Coleridge's crotch. The Breton immediately released his hold and struggled to stand up. His opponent turned towards Bodil, ready once more to continue casting her evil magic. However, she was greeted with the sight of Bodil's ebony-clad steed rushing towards her with fury ablaze in his eyes. The former servant shot forth a beam of ice onto the ground, causing the steed to lose his footing and crash onto his side. Although he struggled to get up, he could not gain footing on the frozen earth. Malevolens laughed in sweet satisfaction, only to feel Coleridge tackle her onto the ground. He pinned her with as much of his weight as he could and began to drain her magicka. Malevolens felt it quickly pour out of her like water pours out of a basin.

She struggled against the man, but to no avail. He only tightened his grip on her. Malevelons had to do something or all of her magika would be drained. In a desperate attempt to get Coleridge to let her go, she used the only weapon she had left: her mouth. With all her strength she bit down on his hand, digging her teeth into his flesh. He let out a cry and removed it from her, freeing her left arm. Seizing her opportunity she slammed a fist into the other hand holding her, causing her other arm to be released. However, the lower half of her body was still restrained so she stretched out her arms and shoved Coleridge forward with her upper body as hard as she could. He was thrown slightly backwards, withdrawing some of his weight off of her. Malevolens immediately repeated her attack and succeeded in completely freeing herself. Getting to her feet she withdrew her dagger from its sheath and plunged it into Coleridge's stomach. The man gasped as the icy metal cut through skin and muscle, causing blood to rush forth from the wound. Malevolens sharply withdrew the weapon and Coleridge collapsed onto the road, clutching the injury.

"There, that should hold you for a while." She then strode over to Bodil with an air of pride. "Now, since you made it impossible for me to see my love ever again, I will do the same for you." She began to chant, causing a sickly orange light to form around her right hand.

Long ago I made a vow

To avenge my lover dear

So I will speak here and now

These words so crystal clear

Ancient tomes I studies well

By the moons' pale light

Learned I of brave Pelinal

And how with Umaril he did fight

He would return one day I read

To unleash his wrath upon the Eight

So until by your hand he lies dead

Your love for the Emperor you will never sate

As the last word left her lips the orange light shot forth from her hand and surrounded Bodil's body before fading away.

"How does it feel to lose someone that you love?" Malevolens then turned around and ran off into the Great Forest. Coleridge's chest heaved in and out as he tried to staunch the flow of bleeding with his hands. Every breath he took racked his body with agony. He prayed to Akatosh that someone had heard the skirmish and was coming this way. Each second seemed like an hour to him and he began to lose hope until a Bosmer rushed out of the forest and onto the road. The mer stood in shock at the sight for a moment before rushing over to Coleridge, helping the man to take off his shirt so he could bind the wound. He then ripped off part his cloak and tied it tightly around the injury.

"Who did this?" he asked once the job was done.

"An Imperial woman named Malevolens Mucro attacked us and fled east into the Great Forest," he gasped, gesturing weakly with his arm. "But, please, go to Chorrol and tell them that we need assistance."

Kuror hesitated for a second. He had stolen much food and supplies from the town and he was likely to get caught even with his face hidden. Then the image of the stranger sparing him and giving him money flashed through his mind and he sprinted towards the town as fast as he feet could carry him, pulling up the hood of his cloak. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the Chorrol gate.

"Travelers...were attacked on the...Black Road. They...need help." Kuror gestured in the direction he had come from. The guards instantly dashed off.

"There. I have gotten help and I do not need to do anymore." Kuror took a few steps forward. Then he halted. Should not do more? Guilt began to prick at him until he finally muttered under his breath and ran in the direction of Bodil and Coleridge. When Kuror arrived at the site of the attack he saw the man and woman supported by the two guards. One of them looked at Kuror in surprise, then anger as recognition came into his eyes.

"Did you do this, thief?"

"No! I swear I did not!"

"You better be telling the truth."

"He...he is."

The guard gave a look of concern to the Breton. Then he turned to Kuror. "Find a way to get the horse up, scum. We need someone to lead him."

"How am I supposed to get him up when he is lying on solid ice!" Kuror exclaimed in frustration, not noticing the Breton weakly fumble with something at his belt and press a smooth metal object into the Bosmer's hands.

"Touch that...to the ice. It will melt it and Aage will be able to get up."

Kuror raised an eyebrow, but did as instructed. The ice instantly evaporated, leaving water in its place. After handing the item back to the Breton, he grabbed the reins and pulled hard, digging his feet into the ground as much as he could, causing the beast to shakily plant his front hooves on the ground and lift himself up into a sitting position. Kuror encouraged Aage further by gently talking to him and tugging once more on the reins. After a few attempts at lifting his back end into position the animal was on all fours.

"Alright. The thief can drop the horse off at the stables. We will escort you two to the Chapel of Stendarr for healing, but we need to go as fast as possible. Night is almost upon us." The group then began the slow journey along the Black Road, the guards' shoulders aching from supporting Bodil and Coleridge, but with dogged determination they continued on and refused to stop. It seemed forever, but they eventually reached the gate to the relief of all. Kuror led Aage into the pasture and shut the gate behind him, watching out of the corner of his eye as one of the guards handed the modest stabling fee to a Dunmer woman. He saw the Chorrol gate open to admit the men and those that they carried. The guard carrying Coleridge said a few words to his fellow officer at the gate before he and his partner went in. Kuror did not have to hear them to know that the words were a warning that he might run off.

Kuror sighed and sat down on the grass. What had he gotten himself into?

* * *

Gureryne Selvilo and his fellows were shocked to see the doors of the Chapel of Stendarr open to reveal two Chorrol guards supporting travelers. Gureryne and Orag gra-Bargol immediately rushed over to the soldiers and relieved them of Bodil and Coleridge, escorting the wounded man and woman to their rooms in the chapel and setting each of them on a bed. Orag quickly walked over to a table and picked up two glass bottles. After undoing the cork, she put a hand behind the woman's head and poured the potion down her throat with the other, making sure Bodil swallowed. She then did the same for the second bottle.

"Now, how about I get you out of that armor?" Piece by piece gra-Bargol removed the heavy metal, along with Bodil's sword, from the Nord and set on the floor at the end of the bed, leaving the woman clad only in a cloth shirt and pants. The Orc strode over to a dresser and opened it, taking out a plain green dress. Gra-Borgal helped the tired Bodil to change into it before demanding that she rest and left.

Bodil sighed and let her head fall to the pillow, which felt quite comfortable compared to the hard ground, and tried to absorb what had happened. To think that Malevolens, who she had once thought of as an innocent girl, had plotted revenge against Bodil was astounding. And she was still out there. There was no telling how many other people she might have a grudge against. She hoped with all her heart that Coleridge would be alright. If she lost him it would hurt her more than the waters of Oblivion. Then her mind turned to Malevolens' curse. Coleridge had told her about Umaril and of his epic battle with Pelinal Whitestrake. He had even let her borrow some if his books on the subject. If the texts were true Umaril would return, but they had never said when. It could be hundreds of years before that date. And if he did how would she defeat him? She was an experienced warrior, but not near as good a fighter as Pelinal. Bodil sighed and tried to go to sleep, hoping that an answer lay somewhere in the future.

Meanwhile Gureryne Selvilo was treating Coleridge's wounds. He untied the bloody cloth on the man's chest and set it aside, grimacing when he saw the wound on Coleridge's abdomen. He picked up a cloth, dipped it in a basin of water, and gently dabbed it on the wound in order to clear the area of excess blood. Coleridge flinched, but a glance from Gureryne made him steady himself. Once that was was done he wrung the rag out in another basin and threw it in a wicker basket for it to be washed later. He gingerly placed his hands on the wound and took a deep breath so he could concentrate on healing Coleridge. A blue light encompassed his hands and flowed into Coleridge like rain onto a parched field. The hole in his stomach where Malevolens' dagger had gone through slowly closed inch by inch until it sealed,the muscle came together once more by increments, and finally the skin closed up. Gureryne gasped as he finished and his hands shook as he leaned on the bedpost to collect himself. A good deal of time passed before he felt he had the energy to move again. Healing Coleridge was worth the cost to him, though. Helping people in need was his calling. If that meant giving up some of himself he would do so gladly.

"Thank you," Coleridge said, observing that he now had a scar where the wound had been. Gureryne nodded, walking over to a basin to clean his hands of Coleridge's blood. He then walked over to a dresser, taking out a plain blue shirt and carefully helped Coleridge into it.

"Where will you sleep if I have your bed?"

"Do not worry about me, friend. I will sleep on a bedroll and I assure you that I am quite comfortable lying on one. Goodnight."

With that Gureryne exited the room. Coleridge sighed. Never before had he expected Malevolens to be an experienced mage. One thing in particular that bothered him, though, was the type of magic she cast. He recalled a story he was told by his father when he was young. In the time when the dragons still communicated with man, a dragon named Lovulnok lived in the dragon village of Kogaandoro. He was a skilled mage and those in the village thought him eccentric, but nothing more. However, Lovulnok had a dark secret. He had invented type of curse: the Staadnau Vokul. He could take revenge on an enemy by inhibiting them from attaining something they desired unless certain limits were reached. It was an unusual spell, but everything about Lovulnok was. He used it once by confronting one of his foes while he was in disguise. The mage then cursed his fellow, saying that unless he killed his children his mate would die. The day after the encounter, the dragon searched for the stranger who had cursed him, attacking anyone and everything in the village. Eventually he had to be killed. Lovulnok kept this spell in a heavy, leather-bound book called the Vulomkriibeyn which was full of many other horrific spells besides the Staadnu Vokul which he loved to inflict on the helpless, although he always avoided suspicion and someone else was always blamed. Not wanting anyone to see it Lovulnok hid the tome in a spot where he thought no one would find it. However, a clever young dragon by the name of Ahkaazven snuck into Lovulnok's cave while he was out one night, stumbled upon the tome, and escaped with it. He brought it back to his own home to study, but when he glanced the contents he cried out and rushed to the Count of Kogaandoro, Drogovpaaz, and told him what he had found, not even caring that he was confessing to the crime of stealing. Drogovpaaz told Ahkaazven to fetch the item immediately and when he saw the evidence before him he flew into a rage. As Lovulnok was returning Drogovpaaz intercepted him and waved the tome in front of his face, demanding that he explain.

Various inhabitants of the village stopped to watch the confrontation. Lovulnok's eyes widened in surprise and fear at the fact that his secret had been exposed. Then in one quick movement he snatched his precious volume from Drogovpaaz's talons and clamped as hard he could on the massive dragon's neck, beheading the Count. With blood dripping from his jaws he took off into the air, flying as hard and as fast as he could. Already Lovulnok could hear the angry roars and rushing of wings behind him. The chase continued on for some time, the mage pumping his limbs even though they cried out in agony. He began to falter, his pursuers coming closer with every wingbeat. Lovulnok decided that he did not want his precious work to be destroyed and so dropped it into the wilderness. He then wheeled around and let loose a thunderous roar, ready to fight to the death. Fang tore through flesh and blood arced through the sky as they fought. In the end it was a losing battle. Lovulnok's mangled corpse was left for scavengers to feast on. The dragons, mourning Drogovpaaz, searched far and wide for the Vulomkriibeyn in order to rid Nirn of it forever, but even after years and years of searching it was never found. Finally they had to concede defeat.

Coleridge shook his head and came back to reality. Malevolens must have acquired Lovulnok's spell book somehow and then used the Staadnu Vokul to curse Bodil. If she could decipher the Staadnu Vokul that must mean she had another dragon artifact since he thoroughly doubted she was one of the very few people that could understand the dragon language: an aak. His father had told him that dragons used them to translate works from the language of the dragons into that of any other race. This tool in the hands of the honest brought great knowledge, but Malevolens had twisted its purpose. Coleridge wondered where and how she had gotten the artifacts, but that did not concern him near as much as the fact that that Lovulnok's tome was still out there. He wondered if Malevolens had hidden the Vulomkriibeyn and the aak somewhere in Battlehorn Castle. They had to be destroyed to prevent further abuse of their power. First, though, he must recover. Even though his wound was healed it still hurt considerably. And with that he let himself climb into the sweet embrace of sleep.

* * *

Kuror stood up when he saw the two guards from before and another man who he knew to be Bittneld the Curse-Bringer, the Captain of the Chorrol Guard approach him.

"Follow us. We need to talk to you," Bittneld said. Kuror obliged and followed the the three men through the gate and into the guard barracks. One of the guards ordered him to sit down. The Bosmer did so, keeping his gaze level with the man's.

"What do you know about the attack, thief?"

"My name is Kuror, not thief. I was at my camp in the Great Forest at dusk and then the sounds of combat some distance away came to my ears. I normally avoid confrontation so I ignored it. A few moments later the noise ceased, but I could not help wandering what had happened. The thought would not leave me alone so I headed in the direction the commotion had come from. When I came upon the scene I saw the Breton, the Nord, and the horse on the ground. I rushed over to the Breton and tore off part of my cloak to bind his wound. As I was doing so he named the attacker as an Imperial female named Malevolens Mucro and said she fled east into the Great Forest after the assault. That's all that I can tell you."

"This Malevolens could not have gotten too far since it was dusk when she attacked. She probably made her own camp not too far from here," the guard standing next to Kuror's interrogator thought out loud as he rubbed his chin.

"It is getting dark, so I think our best bet would be to ask the two victims more about Malevolens tomorrow morning and commence our search then."

"What about him, Captain?" the second guard said, jerking his head towards Kuror.

"I doubt he has money to pay his fine, so I suppose that we throw him in jail."

"Wait! I can pay my fine! Here!." Kuror quickly untied the pouch that the strange man had given him and handed it to Bittneld. The captain studied it suspiciously.

"Where did you this from?"

"A man gave it me."

"Do not tell me lies, thief."

"I'm not lying! He did give me the gold!"

"And what were you doing when you met this man?"

"I was hunting deer in the Great Forest and he came across my path."

"And you did not see an opportunity to rob him and attempt to do so?"

Kuror stayed silent for a moment.

"Did you?"

"Yes, but-"

"I knew it. You may have not have harmed the travelers, but you do not have any evidence to prove that this gold is not stolen."

"I did not steal it! He gave it to me because he wanted to!"

"You are saying that a man who you tried to rob gave you the gold as a nice gesture?"

"Yes!"

"I do not believe you," Bittneld told Kuror, placing the pouch in a chest and locking it."You are going to jail."

Kuror's heart sank. He was being completely honest and the Bittneld thought he was lying. Part of him felt that he should have stayed in the Great Forest. If he had done so he wouldn't be sitting in the barracks of the Chorrol guard. However, another part of himself felt that Kuror had done the right thing by going to the guard and getting help for the man and woman and suggested that he help catch their attacker.

'No,' he thought. 'I did the right thing and it got me into trouble. Why should I do so again?' The guards could find Malevolens on their own. Then he recalled the stranger's words to him earlier about the honor of giving and thought of how much peace of mind it give the victims the sooner they knew their attacker was in jail. The guards could certainly track down Malevolens faster with his help. As a Bosmer he could see, smell, and hear far better than they could. The knowledge that he would be sitting by and doing nothing when he could be helping caused guilt to course through him.

"Before you lock me up, though, let me to help you track down and capture Malevolens."

"Why would you want to help?" the first guard asked.

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"We could just hire someone to track her down for us and we have enough guards to help. There is no need for the aid of a thief."

"I have lived in the Great Forest all my life and I know the land like it was a part of me. Every tree, every bush, every inch of dirt is as familiar to me as my own body. As for my use in securing her, I assure you I am quite agile. Do not deny that the speed of a Bosmer could come into use. "

"You do have a point," Bittneld admitted grudgingly after a moment of thought. "Fine, we'll set out tomorrow since it is dark out. Besides, Alon and Teol look like they could use a rest."

"I guess I am sleeping in the Chorrol dungeons tonight."

"No. It is easier to put you into jail then to get you out. You will sleep here in the barracks on a bedroll."

'At least it is better than sleeping in dank, smelly prison cell and having to worry about a rat nibbling on me,' Kuror thought somberly to himself.

* * *

Bodil sat next to Coleridge at a table in the Oak and Crosier. Gureryne Selvilo and Orag gra-Bargol had done a wonderful job at healing the both of them and they could now move around, although it still hurt to do so too quickly. The healers had advised the both of them to refrain from travelling for a day or two just to be safe. Bodil looked at Coleridge, thankful that she had such a loyal friend. She had known Coleridge for a long time now and he had been like a big brother to her ever since she met him in Bruma all those years ago.

"I can not think you enough for defending me back on the Black Road."

"Hey, what are friends for?" Coleridge then shifted in his seat as the door to the inn opened. "Look. It is two of the guards from yesterday."

Bodil followed her friend's gaze and watched as the men approached them and took a seat.

"How are you two feeling?" one of the guards asked.

"Much better. Thank you for helping us. We definitely could not have made it to Chorrol on our own."

"No problem. Let me introduce myself. My name is Alon Nux."

"And I am Bittneld the Curse-Bringer, Captain of the Chorrol guard."

"My name is Bodil Ice-Sword and this is my friend Samuel Coleridge."

Bittneld's eyes widened a bit at hearing their names. "The Champion of Cyrodiil and the Mage of Blazes? I never thought I would run into you two. Anyhow, we need to talk. The Bosmer told us that the person who attacked you was named Malevolens Mucro. Can you tell us what she looks like?"

Coleridge nodded. "I thought that might be why you were here. Utterly abhorrent of how she took advantage of Bodil by posing as a servant. As for her appearance, I believe she is around nineteen years of age. Malevolens is of average height, has long, black hair and her eye color is brown. If I remember correctly she is wearing a flax tunic, a brown skirt, a pair of oiled linen shoes, and a necklace with a powerful shield enchantment on it. I do not know that types of spells it is resistant to other than fire, so I would not rely on magic if you need to use force to bring her in."

"Does she favor any particular type of weapon?" Alon questioned.

"Malevolens seems to be quite skilled with ice magic. She also used another spell to attack Bodil that I do not know the mechanics of too well. I drained much of her magicka during the attack, though. The only weapon besides magic that she has is a dagger. Be careful. Malevolens is very fast when she attacks and will try every trick there is to defeat you."

"We will. Thank you for the information," Bittneld and Alon stood up. "Goodbye."

"Goodbye." When the guards left Coleridge turned to Bodil.

"Can I talk to you in private?" Bodil raised an eyebrow but rose from her seat and followed Coleridge up the stairs and into his room, her friend shutting the door behind him. "I think I know what spell Malevolens used to curse you."

"What? How?"

Coleridge then told her the story of Lovulnok and the Volumkriibeyn that his father had told him when he was but a child. Bodil could hardly believe that a dragon had made the spell that had caused her so much pain.

"So the spell will physically prevent me from going to see him? How?"

"I do not know, and you should be all the more cautious for it."

Bodil sighed.

"I felt blessed by the gods when I found out that Martin was returned and yet I am cursed to never see him again unless the impossible happens. The tides of fate are fickle indeed."

"Do not give up hope. No matter what fate deals you, hope will always be there for you to hold onto." Coleridge placed a hand on Bodil's shoulder. "I will write a letter to Martin tomorrow. Now come. I will buy you another drink."

* * *

"Here is my plan," began Bittneld after informing the others about Malevolens. "Once the Bosmer tracks down Malevolens we surround her. Alon will move in front of her, Teol will take position behind her, and the thief and I will go to each side of her. At my signal Alon and Teol will rush forward and restrain Malevolens so that the thief and I can put the wrist and ankle irons on her. Watch out for her ice attacks. Although she has been drained of much of her magika she is still dangerous. Also be wary of Malevolens' dagger. Even a blade as small as that can be lethal if used the right way. After the irons are put on her we escort Malevolens to jail. Does everyone understand?"

Teol, Alon, and Kuror nodded.

"Good." Bittneld disappeared from the room for a moment before returning with the aforementioned wrist and ankle irons. He handed the wrist irons to Kuror before attaching the ankle irons to his belt. The Bosmer did likewise. Then the four men exited the barracks, proceeding along the Black Road and turning east when they reached the spot where Bodil and Coleridge had been assaulted. After a few minutes of searching Kuror's keen eyes spotted two sets of footprints in the grass overlapping one another. One set led to the Black Road, but the other went away from it. They were not large in stature, had a slender shape to them, and were obviously from the same person from what he could tell. Kuror thought for a moment before bending down and picking up a small clump of dirt. He held it to his nose and breathed in deep. He could smell many things, but a familiar scent he had often had contact with in his youth came to him: that of oiled linen.

"She was here, alright," Kuror announced to the group, letting the dirt crumble to the ground. "Come, let's follow the trail and see where it leads," he stated, moving forwards. Silence surrounded the men, save for the soft chinking of the guards armor and the movements of creatures scurrying about. The morning sun shone down upon them, causing them to sweat. Still they continued on, determined to bring Malevolens to justice. After a while Kuror stopped and examined a tree.

"Ah, here might be a signal that we are on the right track." Kuror he reached over to it and removed a single flaxen thread. As with the dirt, he inhaled the scent.

"Look at this," he said, holding it up to the group. "This is definitely from Malevolens' shirt."

"How do you know it came from her?" Teol, leaned closer to get a better view.

"Among other things, the thread smells of mead, candle wax, and old leather. Alon said Malevolens posed as a servant. Those are all the smells a domestic would have on them." Kuror turned around and continued to follow the footprints. Grass and twigs crunched under their feet as the continued on their quest. As they continued on the smell of ash entered Kuror's nostrils as he breathed. Sure enough, they soon came upon a dead campfire underneath a large tree with more footprints leading away from it. Kuror also noticed the area where the grass was bent from where someone had slept.

"I am quite sure this is Malevolens' camp since the imprint in the grass is about the size she would be. The Bosmer bent down to take a pinch of ashes between his fingers."These are still a tad warm. It seems she left some hours ago."

The men continued on through the forest, each going over Bittneld's plan in his head. Kuror slid a hand to the irons on his belt, thinking of the moment when he would have to rush forward and clamp them onto Malevolens' wrists. He had never trusted guards before, especially since he had begun his career as a thief, but it was imperative that he trust them now if Malevolens was to be captured. Then that same something inside him that had spoken to him in the barracks asked why he even cared about this expedition in the first place. What did it matter to him if this woman was captured or not? Why care about the peace of mind of her victims? Kuror suddenly felt himself sorely tempted to lose the guards in the thick foliage and leave.

Then another part of Kuror told him those thoughts were selfish and that he would be lowering himself by running away. It told him that by helping put away someone who had harmed others he was doing the right thing. So he walked onward, despite the desire to escape lurking within him. As the minutes wore on the guards began to tire. Kuror may have been used to walking through the forest for a long distance, but the others were not. Then a voice from up ahead caused Kuror to hold out his arm in order to stop the others.

"Ah, my dear Arbor is finally avenged. He may have been part of the Mythic Dawn, but that did not give that wretched Nord the right to take him away from me. She paid dearly, though. It is even more satisfying when I think of the fact that no guard will ever be able to find me. Those buffoons are so used to patrolling the city they could not even find their way out of a bush."

Bittneld motioned for the group to move into their positions. The group quietly moved into their places and closed in around her while she continued to talk, every muscle taut and ready in their bodies. Once everyone was ready Bittneld gave the signal for the plan to commence, causing Alon and Teol to rush at her. Malevolens jumped in shock as she saw the two guards crashing through the forest growth. She released a stream of ice at each of them, but it splintered on Alon and Teol's shields as they lifted them up. Malevolens let loose a cry of frustration when the two men pinned grabbed hold of her. She kicked and writhed, but it was ineffective against the chain mail of those who restrained her. Then Bittneld and Kuror came forward and clamped the irons onto her. Malevolens was enraged.

"Let me go, you pathetic fools!"

"Malevolens Mucro, you are hereby arrested under the authority of Countess Arriana Valga for the attack and injury of innocent travelers," Bittneld stated. He then made a gesture for the group to move forward. They trekked back through the Great Forest, Alon and Teol making sure to keep a firm grip on Malevolens. Kuror then felt the urge to run away. He had done his job. Why linger if all that awaited him was a jail cell? But like a refrain the stranger's words about being rewarded with something greater than gold sang through his mind and the virtue inside him fought against his desire to flee and won. He glanced at the trees and the plants, thinking that he would soon see them no more. Was this his reward? To have a glimpse of his beloved forest before he was thrown into prison for something he did not do? Each step that he took seemed heavier to Kuror. By the time they reached Chorrol and the gate was opened he was sorely disheartened. So much so that he barely paid attention as people stopped to look at the sight of Malevolens being led to the castle. The guards opened the doors to the castle as the men and woman approached.

"Bittneld, what do you have there?" Countess Arianna Valga asked as she caught sight of the group.

"This woman, Malevolens Mucro, assaulted two travelers along the Black Road, severely injuring them, Countess."

Arriana nodded. "But who is this?" She gestured to Kuror.

"He is the Bosmer who has been stealing from merchants the past five weeks. He tried to pay his fine with gold, but I had reason to suspect it was stolen. He helped us track down Malevolens and assist in her capture, though I do not understand why," Bittneld made a signal for Teol and Alon to resume taking Malevolens to prison. The two men nodded and shoved Malevolens forward, exiting through a large door.

"Come here, Bosmer," Arianna ordered. Kuror walked over the throne and straightened his posture. "What is your name?"

"Kuror."

"Was the gold in your possession stolen like Bittneld said, Kuror?"

"No, Countess. I swear upon my life itwas not."

"And why did you help to capture the criminal?"

"Because...because a man I tried to rob showed me mercy and told me there was no honor in stealing, but there was honor in giving."

"It seems you had a change of heart. Tell me, where did you learn your skill?"

A pained expression came across Kuror's face. "My father taught me, Countess. I also know how to use a bow and a shortsword."

"He schooled you well." Arriana leaned back and thought for a moment. "You had the opportunity to escape within the depths of the Great Forest and yet you did not. That shows that you have indeed gained a sense of honor. Therefore I will believe that you are telling the truth and did not steal the gold. Consider your fine paid."

Kuror's eyes widened. He could not believe he just went from being on his way to prison to being a free man.

"However, I have an offer for you, if you are interested. Your talent at tracking could be useful in the future. As such, I would like to extend an invitation to you to become a guard of Chorrol."

Bittneld and Kuror's jaws dropped in surprise. Kuror felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest from shock. A position as a guard? Having a job would mean he would not have to steal anymore since he would have a steady income. He would also have a warm place to sleep at night. Not that he minded the woods, but a roaring fire was preferable to the unpredictable weather of the Great Forest.

"Yes, Countess. I accept."

"Good. You will be outfitted with the proper armor and weapons shortly. Welcome to the guard, Kuror."

* * *

Three days after Malevolens was arrested, Martin exited the Council Chambers after yet another lengthy discussion. He was beginning to worry about Bodil and Coleridge since they should have arrived yesterday. As he thought of all this, Martin made his way up to his private quarters. Just as he was about to ready himself for bed a knock sounded on the door. Even though he was tired he told whoever it was to come in.

"A message for you, Emperor," stated the Imperial guard that entered the room. Martin took the letter and was then left alone. He opened the message and started to read. He was shocked by the missive. Bodil and Coleridge were attacked? Ice ran through his veins as he read about Malevolens' curse and the fact it could only be lifted by Bodil and himself. He felt a little better when he learned of sorceroress' capture, though. When he read that Bodil loved him as well he felt warmth course through him. He was also thankful that Coleridge would be there to comfort her even though he could not. At least there was some good among the bad. Sighing, Martin put the letter in a drawer, changed into his sleeping robes, and climbed into bed.

* * *

On the night Martin's letter arrived it was time for Bodil and Coleridge to leave. Bodil and Coleridge had decided that they would ride back to Battlehorn Castle, resume their lives, and keep praying for the gods to help in some way. After a brief goodbye to the guards at the gate they set off. Their steed's hooves made a steady rhythm on the road as they rode. The journey was silent for the most part, each lost in their own thoughts. The early morning sun shone and then dimmed as time stretched on and dusk fell. At last the two friends saw Battlehorn Castle appear and urged their horses forward. The gate lifted as Bodil and Coleridge approached and they rode through, glad to be home after the long ride. The two dismounted and led their horses to the stables where they began to relieve the creatures of their gear.

The knight who had opened the gate approached Bodil. "Mistress Ice-Sword, I did not expect to see you home so soon. I thought you would be gone for another week."

"Something came up. It seems our visit to the Imperial City has been canceled, Calur." The Nord placed a piece of Aage's armor on a special rack outside of his stall.

"Too bad. I am afraid I have some unfortunate news. Malevolens disappeared shortly after you left. We searched the castle from top to bottom but we could find no trace of the girl since then."

"It seems Malevolens had some unfinished business with me and followed me on my journey. It was resolved, though, but it seems that she will be staying in Chorrol from now on." The last of Aage's armor was placed on the rack, then Bodil began to groom him. Coleridge did the same for his steed. The horses dipped their heads in pleasure.

"Pity. She made a very good steak. Ah, well. That is how things go I suppose." Calur turned around and headed back towards the castle.

"Pity? Pah! That miscreant does not deserve it!" Aage muttered once Calur was out of earshot. "I was fortunate I did not break a leg due to her blasted spell!"

"Well, she can not hurt anyone anymore." Bodil finished her task and threw a blanket over him before exiting the stall and shutting the door.

"Thank goodness. However, there is still the matter of the Volumkriibeyn," Coleridge said after he was done with his own horse.

"What is that?"

"Something very evil that needs to be destroyed before anyone finds it, Aage. Knowing how secretive Malevolens is, she probably hid it in her room. Come, let us go. That wretched book can not be destroyed soon enough." Coleridge and Bodil quickly exited the stables. Once inside Battlehorn Castle they headed straight to Malevolens' old quarters and entered them. They went around the room scrutinizing every corner of Malevolens' room for Lovulnok's ancient text. Alas, though they thoroughly searched the room they could not find it.

"Where on Nirn could she have put the thing?" Bodil slumped against a wall. "We searched everywhere."

"Hmm...maybe not everywhere." Coleridge once more opened a chest at the end of Malevolens' bed. He removed the items within and knocked on the bottom. A hollow sound replied. After a moment of fumbling Coleridge lifted up a loose part of the wood, revealing a black, leather-bound book with designs of horrific creatures crawling across its cover. Nestled in one of the straps was a red, oval-shaped glass. A mixed expression of disgust and fear crossed the Breton's face, and he held the tome like one would hold the remains of a dead animal. Coleridge closed the wood back over the gap and shut the chest.

"Come, we need to burn that horrid thing. Not in here though. If the others found otu that we were snooping around in Malevolens' room it could raise unwanted questions."

"Why? Couldn't it be of some use to us? Perhaps we can undo it after all."

"No. The magic that tome contains would twist your mind and corrupt your soul. To delve into would do no good. Remember that this is not the work of a mortal, but of a dragon. It is far more potent than anything we have come across, save for the Mysterium Xarxes. We were fortunate Martin's mind did not fall prey that. Imagine what it would do to you, I, or anyone else. Believe me, it is far safer to destroy it."

Bodil sighed. "Very well."

Once inside Coleridge's room the book was thrown into the hearth, the fire destroying the words penned by a member of a race long dead. The two friends gazed into the flames, both silently praying to the gods that the evil that had befallen them would be defeated.


End file.
